


Dead Things

by MllePolina



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Dark Comedy, F/M, Sexual Tension, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Undercover, Undercover As Prostitute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28986747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MllePolina/pseuds/MllePolina
Summary: Robin falls asleep at her desk to find herself alone with Strike.long summary (whole series)When professional poker player and instagram star Blazeman is found dead on his yatch of an apparent overdose, Strike makes an unexpecte move by making a cold call to Blazeman's distraught girlfriend Elizabeth offering his services. A move that puts him at odds with his agency, Michelle teams up with Strike, changing the dynamics for good. Robin, in denial for her feelings, takes unprecedented risks to solve the murder.
Relationships: Cormoran & Michelle, Robin Ellacott & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. florescent lights

They had discussed Blazeman’s case for hours and Robin felt already tired. Michelle tailed the girlfriend, Pamela Blazeman, 34 and once-top-model, Barclay was on another case, Strike had Elizabeth Blazeman and her boyfriend Cedric in his watch. Robin had the bank accounts, suspects, last whereabouts and Police’s overlooked statements to organize for the week. She was not in the field, which was a change, she had expected to tail the girlfriend but Strike decided against. She welcomed it, if she was honest with herself, because she did not feel well at all. As she entered the inner office, the warmth of the day, the hum of Pat’s radio, all lulled her, and at last she slept.

Two hours stole over her. When she woke, the sun had declined out of sight behind the buildings, the desk and office were gray, radio silent, the people, too, had vanished; the agency was void.

On waking, she felt much at ease—not chill, as she ought to have been after sitting so still for at least two hours; her cheek and arms were not benumbed by pressure against the hard desk. No wonder. Instead of the bare metal on which she had laid them, she found a thick shawl, carefully folded, substituted for support, and another shawl (both taken from the corridor where such things hung) wrapped warmly around her. As she rubbed her eyes she heard Strike enter the office.

“Good night, Robin, have you slept well?”

She stared at him blankly. 

‘’It seems you turn day into night, and choose a desk for a pillow; rather hard lodging I would say—?”

“Well it was softened for me’’

“Did the shawls keep you warm?”

“Very warm.’’ Robin added with a smile. ‘’Do you ask thanks for them?”

“No. You looked pale Robin, are you home sick?” He was heading towards his desk. 

“To be home sick, one must have a home; which I don’t.” She came closer to the window and put her head on the chilling glass.

“Then you have more need of a careful friend. I scarcely know any one, Robin, who needs a friend more than you; your very faults require it.’’ Robin raised her eyebrows. 

‘’You want so much checking and keeping down.” he added with a grin.

‘’Sometimes I envy you,’’ Robin said without looking at him.

‘’Why?’’

‘’You live over the bloody office,’’ she said and Strike guffawed.

‘’Sorry about that, comes as a plus with the prosthetics,’’ and pointed his leg.‘’You got the cold?’’ he added.

‘’I don’t know, maybe,’’He held out his hand felt Robin’s forehead. 

‘’Well you seem fine to me,’’ he was unpacking the beers he brought with him under his desk.‘’Are you hungry? I’ve eaten with Michelle but there are some leftovers in the kitchen if you—’’

‘’No, I’m just gonna head home,’’ Robin said. 

‘’Before you go,’’ said Strike sitting on the leather sofa outside ‘’you might be interested what Michelle had found.’’

’Go on,’

‘’Blazeman received threats— and I don’t mean nutter letters like we get. The club he half owns, apparently drug and sex trafficking. Underage girls, I mean several complaints were issued but,’’ he was shoving papers around ‘’this one came to him a month ago. An email, printed by him to specifically to show to his lawyer, he must’ve felt threatened enough—‘’

‘’Death threats and overdose cover for murder? Doesn’t add up for motive.’’

‘’Yeah but worth the chase.’’ He was looking directly now. ‘’You sure you’re okay?’’

‘’Never better,’’ Robin said. His gaze was still searching for answers so she laughed ‘’What?’’

‘’Are you hiding something?’’

She couldn’t suppress the laugh. 

‘’Robin?’’ 

Putting on her jacket ‘’No,’’ His face was relieved now and as he sipped his beer she added ‘’and even if I were, you would never know,’’ she added playfully and closed the door.


	2. venus in furs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin gets ready for the audition. Strike keeps working with Michelle.

After waiting for ten minutes in the bank, Robin finally got hold of the Blazeman’s bank account activity. Since his death became public, every information was hard to get but thanks to her daughter it was as easy as pie. This little victory did not diminished her appetite to solve the case. 

Strike had three pent-house visits, two dinners, and numerous phone calls with Blazeman’s daughter Elizabeth. She was the top client in the agency. Barclay tailed the adulterous father, Michelle tailed Blazeman’s girlfriend Pamela, Strike even contacted Shanker and was after every bit of Blazeman’s two friends: John Rochester and Richard Wagner. Robin was left with paperwork and listing all the possible suspects from their social media. 

She was not furious. She knew Strike was rather weak with social media and both Barclay and Michelle were ex-cops, so their value was in the field. She helped Strike with numerous cases and without her ‘’devil is in deatils’’ attitude his theories would be asserted without evidence. 

She tried narrow her target but it was simply impossible. Blazeman had millions of followers and in return followed over three thousand people on Instagram. Her girlfriend, the famous model Pamela also had millions of followers. His daughter, the famous actress, also had millions of followers and only followed two thousand people. When she contacted Elizabeth Blazeman through Strike’s e-mail (because she gracefully ignored hers even though she was a partner at the agency) it turned out the whole family hired the same Instagram agency and their response was ‘’Oh they don’t even know who they follow. It was just better publicity, ya know,’’ and Strike told Robin to switch target: bank accounts was the answer. She had something else in mind though, and she was going to act on it tonight.

As she was heading to the costume shop, she looked again at the text from Isabel, and wondered if Federicko’s shop was indeed that place. Isabel told me she had an audition at Fedz’s. It was at a corner, a street sign so old that half of it was gone, and near the shop there was a door with no sign over it. She looked at Federicko’s shop again and wondered whether this was the stage for a one way in club. She took a deep breath and went in.

There was a man behind the counter. The little shop were full of wigs, costumes and Robin suspected sex toys behind the curtain. She said ‘’Hi, I’m here for the audition,’’  
The boy—now Robin had a clear picture of his face— simply looked at his phone and said ‘’You’re about eight hours early,’’  
‘’Oh, where.. where can I wait exactly?’’ she didn’t want him to know she had no idea where it was.  
‘’Wait?’’ the boy laughed. ‘’Do you really wanna go in like that?’’ now he was gazing at her jeans and coat.  
‘’Um.. what do you mean?’’ Robin asked not unkindly.  
The boy seemed amused. ‘’You wanna be a stripper like that?’’  
Robin was taken aback.  
‘’I—I’m not a stripper,’’  
‘’Yeah I can see,’’  
Whatever she was preparing herself for, whatever this audition was, she did not think it was this.  
‘’You wanna wait for eight hours to get rejected be my guest,’’ the boy added. ‘’It’s the next door. It starts at ten o’clock so you better be sharp, first ones always get the job’’ he took his headphones and was still on his phone.  
Robin looked around. She did not want to leave but she also did not want to audition for stripping. She realized she could simply walk out and hand the bank papers to Strike and head home. Or she could be a laugh stock with her jeans and pathetic stripping attempt. Just as she was heading to the door, she received a text from Strike.  
‘’Michelle got Blazeman’s girlfriend to talk. We’re headed there now. Just leave the papers on the desk.’’

We’re headed there now. Now she was robbed off her interviewing. Surely they couldn’t wait for Robin to get there for an hour and half, and surely this was not a three men’s job. Now Michelle was closer, it was only *professional* she took Strike to interview. She wondered whether it would bug her as much as it does now if he was headed there with Barclay. She just hushed the thought and went back to the shop.

‘’Hey, do you have any wigs?’’ The boy was with his headphones. Robin took a few steps closer.

‘’Do you have any wigs I can buy?’’

‘’What?’’ he shouted. Robin waited for him to take the headphones off.

‘’I need a dress, shoes and a wig,’’

The boy glanced at her figure and then went inside.

‘’Have you seen the movie Closer?’’ then he took out a short wig.‘’How about this pink one?’’

‘’Pink,’’ Robin was thinking of Alice now, and the blinding lights, ‘’sounds perfect.’’


	3. who goes there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin gets the job, ignores Strike, pushing him towards Michelle even more

In dimly lit street, Robin saw ’’Pros—‘’ right around the corner. The sign has been broken for forever so no one really knew what the name of the street was. The shop near the club, with its hats and furs which Robin spent an afternoon choosing within, was closed after midnight. Robin fastened her pace in the rain, her high heels splashing water. She had not thought of rain, her pink wig was a little damp by now, but she didn’t mind. She was hoping they also wouldn’t mind. She had spent a great deal for her mini dress, and would hate to see all her efforts go in vain. The guy on the door was talking to his friend and laughing. She took a deep breath and approached him with all her courage.

‘’Hi, I’m here for the audition,’’

‘’Sorry babe, we’re closed’’ he had an unfamiliar accent.

She could see some girls coming out from underground. Robin’s pink wig and now wet high heels were no match to theirs but she pursued.

‘’But my friend— Isabel she told me to come tonight, she is in there, if you could just let me—‘’

‘’You say Isabel, there ain’t no Isabel working here working here love. She must’ve given you the wrong name,’’ he added indifferently. His friend was still showing him some texts on his phone and letting out more girls from underground. There were even some giggles for Robin’s mismatched and wet look. She looked at her phone and saw a missed call from Strike over an hour ago. It took her 2 trains and a long walk to get here, and it was almost midnight.

‘’Please, sir, if you could just let me. I _know_ about the job,’’ she said with desperation. This time he looked up, he was no older than Robin, 6 ish and muscular. Having been called sir by a girl no older than him he must’ve either felt flattered or sad for Robin. He opened the door with the back of his hand and said ‘’Get in,’’

When it closed behind her and she was walking down the rabbit hole, she found herself still thanking him. Down the stairs, the green paint and dusty wallpaper could easily be called ancient. It was narrow and unaired. There were many girls headed to the exit and she knew she was late.She pushed her way to the end of the corridor, where there was a small room, she had no time to fix her wig or make up so she got in line. Two before her, she felt grateful she didn’t have to wait much longer in her high heels, which was now thumping like a heartbeat. Suddenly she thought of Strike and gave him every right to be grumpy if prosthetics felt as uncomfortable as these shoes.

‘’Next!’’ she heard and she was first in line now. When the door opened she saw two men standing behind a desk and a woman by a long metal drawer. It was closed to her face as the woman before her got in.

After a solid ten minutes wait she saw her storming out, crying. She was wearing a mini-yellow dress with high heeled boots. She muttered ‘’Assholes’’ as she walked towards to exit with herechoing. She heard another ‘’Next!’’ got rid of her coat and put it in her bag, and walked in, half-wishing she wore boots because she was conscious of her nakedness.

They scarcely spared her a glance and the woman was first to speak. ‘’Name?’’

‘’Venetia’’

‘’ _Full_ name?’’

‘’Oh, Venetia Hall’’ Robin corrected hastily. She was distracted by the big what she assumed was a metal safe by woman’s side.

‘’Age?’’ the man with the beard asked.

‘’25’’ Robin lied.

‘’And where do you come from, Venita?’’ the other man asked with an unfamiliar accent. His clothes were rich, he was overweight, and Robin thought he looked like a pimp from the movies.

‘’Italy,’’

The man looked ponderous and woman asked, ‘’Height and weight please?’’

‘’5’6 and 63’’ as she said as the man took a few steps towards her.

‘’May I?’’ the man asked and Robin put her hands high. She tried her utmost not to flinch. He touched her back and turned her slowly around. Then he took her arm and asked ‘’What is that?’’ Robin was prepared with a sob story to gain their sympathy but now looking at a man who was more of a pimp she wasn’t so sure. She simply said, ‘’My husband,’’

‘’Hmm,’’ the man grunted and took his seat. The woman was talking to the bearded man in low voice and Robin fixed her gaze at the safe, wondering how long she had to wait.

At last, woman broke out, ‘’Do you know what is required of you?’’ and Robin replied excitedly ‘’Yes, 23.00 to 05.00, no drinks, no dances unless you are at the stage and —‘’

‘’No memory.’’ the bearded cut her.‘’No phones are allowed inside the club and our customer’s anonymity is our priority. You see where you stand in this food chain, don’t you Venetia?’’

‘’Yes,’’ Robin replied.

‘’And will you act so accordingly?’’

‘’Yes,’’ Robin replied.

‘’You will come next Saturday at 22.30 with this invitation in your hand. Your dresses will be given you in room 107 and your shifts will be given once you are in. You may or may not choose another nickname but we will be informed first. You will sign this now,’’ she held out the contract and pen, ‘’and will be paid at..’’ the woman kept talking on taxes and payment but Robin was too overwhelmed to comprehend. She signed the papers and was surprised how easily she had gotten the job.

‘’..and we will see you next Saturday.’’ she finished. Robin managed a feeble ‘’Thank you’’ and a timid smile as she walked out the room. She flinched back as she felt a touch on her arm and a stern voice said ‘’The invitation,’’. Seeing the fat man closer she felt disgusted. ‘’Oh, sorry, thank you,’’ she said and walked with her feet aching more than ever, never looking back.

The cold breeze felt good on her skin, and she felt light hearted as she bid the guy outside good-night. ‘’I got the job,’’ she said smirking to him and the guy looked at her as she was mad for the second time that night. She wanted to explain but she was too excited. _The first lead in the case, and I got it._ She wanted to tell Strike but thought it would be better once she got hold of a solid evidence. The underground club, which she was now a hostess of, was half casino and half strip club. As the man said, privacy *was* their policy and their first invincible suspect was a regular here, according to Isabel. _She must’ve lied to me about her name, it wasn’t Isabel._

Robin was thinking of how to smuggle the phone inside but she assumed figuring out will be much easier once she got in. The rain had stopped and now heading to the tube, she reached out for her coat and simply took out her shoes. Light headed and barefoot she now was running to catch the tube. Looking at her phone she saw it was almost one o’clock and she hadn’t ring back Strike. She texted ‘’Late night. Will give you the details tomorrow.’’

She knew he wanted to hear about the Blazeman’s bank account’s activity,which according to him took her all afternoon, whereas she was trying to get a pink wig. It didn’t even take her half an hour to get his bank activity and she knew they would find simply nothing. Whoever killed him, and staged his death as overdose according to Strike, was not so dumb to leave bank account tracings. She felt she needed to keep her promise to him though, no stone unturned, and this case was very important. _I am leaving no stone unturned_ , she thought to herself, _I just didn’t tell you which one._


End file.
